I am a new writer on the scene! The fantastical world of imagination and the mysteries of the unseen captivate my soul! I hope you enjoy reading my stories as much as I did writing them! Thank you for your support and encouragement!
Mark of Petra
Laughing and taunting they say, “Aw! Is she crying? Is the orphan crying?” Fiona stood limp with her head down as if the ground itself was pulling it down. A few sniffles here and there but no sounds or crying or fear came from her mouth. She firmly grasped her school backpack as if its continents held great value. “Wow! She won't even fight back! Are you scared little orphan girl?”, the kids say as they push her into the bookcase. Still with her head hung low in what seemed like scheduled defeat and hopelessness. Fiona remained silent. The ring leader of these sinister teen bullies from her school was just about to administer yet another low blow when a nearby librarian caught wind of the ruckus in the back of the library. “Absolutely not!” She exclaimed. “This is not only unruly behavior for a library, your actions have just served all of you a call to your parents from me!” They gasped and began to dart out of the library. The librarian quickly rushed over to the young and tortured Fiona, still with her head down, crying, yet in silence. “Are you alr…”. Before the librarian could finish her sentence, Fiona ran out of there without saying as much as a thank you. The librarian hadn’t seen her again. She often thought of her often in hopes that she was well.
Hey Writer, You Good?
Check on us writers from time to time...we may not be "okay". Why? Well, contrary to belief or to be frank, common ignorance outside the writing community, writers go through many mental and emotional woes than your traditional 9-5 working class.
I’ve been to such a place so unimaginable, that even after sharing my experience, you would not be able to fathom what I have seen, felt, or witnessed. But…this is my attempt to share with you what is beyond. Beyond comprehension. Beyond what we’ve been conditioned to believe to be real or fake.
The Order of Light
On the outskirts of Nottingham, England, there resides a very peculiar man of great ancestral wealth and prestige. Sir George William Oxley III, is his name, of the great Oxley Estate. The Oxley family has called that land home for 6 generations. Sir George’s wife, Elanor, beloved by many, passed away 15 years ago. She was the only one who would entertain Sir George’s stories of great mystery and folklore. Only his children, George II and Elizabeth are all who remain of his family. His children would rather not have to deal with their father and his infatuation of the bedtime stories of their childhood. Sir George’s children moved on with their lives and left the family estate long ago. Leaving him with the servants and alone with his thoughts. The head butler and old family friend, Baxton, began to notice a decline in Sir George’s health and mental state. Baxton wrote to George II to inform him of his father’s condition and his concern for him. George wrote back to say, “Dear Baxton, please hire someone of known skill to tend to father daily. Therefore, whatever you need I will provide. Baxton, only write to me again when he is nearing the end so that Elizabeth and I can handle all affairs. Sincerely, George.” After reading George’s response back, he became heavy-hearted and quite saddened to see Sir George regarded in such a way by his own children. He thought to himself, “Lady Elanor would have never allowed such cold-heartedness to grow into this detestable treatment of their own father”. Reluctantly, Baxton wrote to the very renowned West Bridgeford Mental Institution advising of the need for a skilled nurse prepared for daily assistance.
Harbinger A few students studying geology were granted access from beyond the wall to study the land of the “old world”. One of the students, Liza, was collecting dirt samples and discovered a very old door in the ground. She called a fellow classmate over to help her open it and explore what’s inside. They pried the door open and couldn’t believe what they found. It was like stepping back in time. They saw very old technology and a light that keeps flashing green in the distance. They went into a corridor and found thousands of corpses that time stripped its flesh from. Liza ventures off into another large room and there are two skeletons, seated by this very odd-looking machine, both grasping a container. Liza slowly approaches to remove the container from the skeleton’s hands and opens it. To her surprise, it was a letter dated 40 years ago in 2025. She yells to her classmate to come quickly. She then begins to read aloud,